Sakura the Stalker Chick
by Eternal Procrastinator
Summary: Every day at eight-eleven, this girl walks in and orders her usual drink and Sasuke is growing increasingly certain that her adoration of him is anything but sweet.


A/N: This is a companion piece to _Sasuke the Mocha Boy._ It isn't necessary to read that one first or at all to understand this story. This is merely told through Sasuke's eyes while the other is told through Sakura's eyes.

-.-

**Sakura the Stalker Chick**

-.-

Without fail, at exactly eight-eleven on the dot, the girl with the bright pink hair walks into the Starbucks where he works. She comes every day and always order her usual peppermint white chocolate raspberry mocha, tall. Never grande, never venti. Always tall.

And there she is, pushing open the door at eight-eleven.

It's her turn at the counter and he's already punching in her order into the register when she decides last minute to add a lemon pound cake. He raises one fine eyebrow at her but walks over to the display counter and grabs a slice for her. He doesn't miss the way she looks at him, face flushed and eyes trained on his face.

"My name's Sakura."

Yeah, he knows, considering he's had to take down her name every time she orders. He merely hands over the cake and grabs a tall cup and scribbles out her order, asking the mandatory, "Would you like whipped cream with that?"

She's going to say yes. She always does.

"My name's Sakura and yes, thank you."

He knows.

Now normally, there'd be someone by the machines, especially during this time of day with morning traffic, but they're unfortunately short staffed. Fortunately, the morning rush isn't as terrible as it usually is and Sasuke can afford to step away from the register to make the mocha.

She trails after him like a lost puppy, complete with the eyes and quite honestly, it unnerves him. He can _feel_ her eyes on the back of his head as he whips together the mocha. And he's pretty sure he catches her with her mouth open. More than once.

"Sakura."

He hands it off to her and she stares at it really hard, like there's something wrong with the drink. There is nothing wrong, okay? He is the best at what he does and that includes making coffee.

"Hey," she calls after him. He barely turns around to look at her. "Thanks for the extra whipped cream."

He grunts. He doesn't know where she got the idea from that he had given her extra whipped cream because he's Sasuke and Sasuke always gives the same amount of whipped cream to customers, unless specified otherwise. He's never off by more than less than a teaspoon's worth.

He concludes one thing as he heads back to the register. That girl is weird.

-.-

She comes in again at exactly eight-eleven and this time he's manning the coffee machines. Naruto's at register today and from the look that passes over her face, she's not happy about it.

He's impressed by how fast she's able to school her features into something other than disappointment. Props to her. Not that he'd ever say such a thing.

Naruto strikes up a conversation with the girl and Sasuke pays it no heed, at least he doesn't until his name is brought up.

He's not eavesdropping. He isn't. He's just checking to make sure the blonde idiot he calls a friend isn't saying anything stupid about him. That's all there is to it. Luckily enough, it seems Sakura isn't actually paying attention to anything Naruto is spouting.

The next cup he picks up has all the symbols for a peppermint white chocolate raspberry mocha and he finds it sad that without even looking at the name he already knows it belongs to Sakura. He whips up the drink and when he turns around to call her name, he freezes for a millisecond at the look she's wearing.

He's seen that look plenty of times, mostly on this one girl who follows him around like a puppy. It's a look he's come to associate with insanity and obsession and he doesn't like that look. He consoles himself with the fact that he will probably never see this girl again outside of Starbucks.

"Sakura."

She reaches for the cup faster than he can set it down. A giggle escapes and she flushes and flashes him a smile and he involuntarily takes a step back. She's resembling Karin a bit too much for his comfort.

"Thank you for the extra raspberries."

All he does in response is grunt. He has no idea what the girl is blathering on about. Extra raspberries? Preposterous. He dispense raspberries the same way he dispenses whipped cream, no more no less than what was asked for.

Exchange swiftly forgotten, Sasuke goes back to work on other customer's orders and it's an enjoyable couple of minutes where no one's trying to strike up a conversation with him. Unfortunately, it doesn't last long. Leave it to Naruto to ruin his day.

"Ready for our gig next week?"

Sasuke sets the machine to blend the drink and leans a hip against the counter as he regards his blond friend. Yeah, he remembers the gig, given that he's reminded nearly every hour, if not by Naruto, then by Kiba. His inbox is currently flooded with messages ranging from 'dude, gig. wed. don't forget' to 'gig gig gig gig giggiggiggigigigigigigig'. Three guesses who sent that last one. First two don't count.

The only problem is that neither of them felt the need to tell him where the gig is being held. Or what times. Basically, all he knows is: 1) they're booked for a gig and 2) it's on Wednesday.

"Where exactly did you book us?"

It finally seems to click with Naruto that Sasuke doesn't know. He grins sheepishly and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. "You know that bar just down the street?"

Sasuke feels the need to arch an eyebrow incredulously at Naruto. They drink at that bar every weekend. It's quite impossible for Sasuke to forget.

"Of course you do. We're booked from nine to eleven."

Finally.

"Make sure to be there early to set up."

"Naruto," he snaps, "don't you have customers to serve?"

Naruto swears and scurries back to the cash register.

-.-

Today he's working the register and there's enough people working today to ensure that's where he stays. He's not surprised to see Sakura walk in at exactly eight-eleven and order her usual drink of peppermint white chocolate raspberries mocha, tall. He rings her up and she leaves to wait for her drink.

He's just finished ringing up another customer when she rushes up with a frantic look to her eyes.

"Did you happen to see a napkin lying somewhere over there?" she asks, waving a hand in the general direction of where she sits.

He pins deadpan stare and replies, "Do you have any idea how many people sit there and don't clean after themselves? You expect me to remember a stupid piece of napkin?"

Her mouth opens and she looks about ready to argue with him. It snaps close after a minute and she murmurs her thanks, trudging silently away. He shakes his head and their interaction is soon forgotten in lieu of the line of customers that's gradually building due to the rush of morning traffic.

"Hey, bastard," Naruto calls out, three minutes into their break.

God help him.

A balled up napkin hits him right between the eyes, timed just right for when he turned on his heels. Growling, he glares at the chortling Naruto and pick up the offending ball of napkin, with every intention of chucking it back at the blonde.

"Wait, no, that's for you."

"I don't want a stupid napkin."

"Open it!" Naruto insists.

"No."

"Come on. It's got your name on it."

Well, that certainly piqued his interest.

"Found it while cleaning yesterday. Meant to give it to you before shift started," Naruto's explaining as Sasuke flattens out the napkin, careful not to let his curiosity show through.

_Sasuke the Mocha Boy,  
Bring me cocoa, bring me joy.  
Sasuke the Mocha Boy,  
I love him, I love him, I love him._

Sasuke blinks. The poem is written with a really loopy handwriting. The 'k's, the 'b's, the 'l's; just about every letter has a loop somewhere. Despite how loopy the letters are, they're slim and elongated so that they don't take up a lot of space, at least horizontally. Vertically, well, that's another story. The point is, he doesn't recognize the handwriting and he doesn't know whether to feel relieved that it's not one of his many persistent suitors or disturbed that it's an entirely new persistent suitor.

A shadow crosses over his face and the corners of him mouth tug down into a scowl, deepening the more he reads it. His third pass over the poem and he crumples it back up and this time really does chuck it at Naruto's head.

He settles on disturbed.

"We do not speak of this."

"Whatever you say, Sasuke the Mocha Boy."

He can hear the capitalization on 'Mocha Boy' and he shudders and slaps a hand against Naruto's forehead, pushing him back towards the machines. The grin Naruto's sporting just grows wider and he sings out "Mocha Boy~", cackling like a hyena.

-.-

The creepy, weird, horrifyingly disturbing poem Naruto had shown him is still on his mind. He just can't stop thinking about it.

He had, initially, thought it to be Karin, just from past experiences alone. However, the more he thinks about it, the less sure of it he is. While the poem is something she's most certainly able to conjure up, the style in which it was written as well as the handwriting isn't.

The only other person who comes to mind is the girl who comes in every day at eight-eleven and orders a peppermint white chocolate raspberry mocha, the one who asked about a napkin the other day.

Either way, he plans on steering clear of both of them. Too bad he's working the register again and she comes in, right on time, eyes shining as usual.

This time, he's aware of her lingering stares and the not-so-subtle longing sighs.

-.-

Of course Naruto would be the one who'd delay them.

Kiba's already at the bar and he's calling every two minutes, utterly anxious. Sasuke can't be bothered to pick up his phone after the fifth call and just lets all subsequent ones go straight to voicemail.

Naruto finally rushes out of his house, drumsticks proudly in hand, and climbs into the passenger seat of Sasuke's car. Without a word, Sasuke tears out of the curb and makes a sharp right, ignoring the painful squawk Naruto emits from banging into the door. They're already five minutes late and he hates being late to anything.

Kiba's waiting for them at the back entrance and without a second's hesitation, chews out Naruto for making them late. The manager cuts in before it can turn into an ugly brawl and ushers the three of them in. Lee's already setting up onstage.

Despite their late start, they manage to set up and tune their instruments and are ready to go with only a minute to spare. At exactly nine, Kiba steps up to the mike and already screams are filling the place. For the next two hours, it's song after song and everything around him is a bit of a blur. All he remembers is a wild crowd and he thinks at some point, someone screamed "I love you, Sasuke" but he can't be too sure.

They finish to thundering applause and a chanting crowd and Kiba screams out his thanks. One last fist pump into the air and he hops off the stage to mingle with some of the girls near the front who've caught his eye. Naruto's quick to follow in their lead singer's footsteps and bounds off the stage, drumsticks poking out of his back pockets. Sasuke doesn't see a need to follow and instead helps Lee pack away their instruments.

They load his bass and Lee's keyboards onto the truck first before tackling the monstrosity that is Naruto's drum kit. They manage to get the bass drum into the bed of the truck before disaster strikes in the form of the snare drum and cymbals crashing to the ground. Lee panics and frantically peruses the drum to ensure that it wasn't scratched nor dented. Sasuke, on the other hand, stills for a moment upon impact, though he regains his composure very soon after and picks up the dropped cymbals before piling them on top of the bass drum. They make a silent vow to mention none of this to Naruto.

Once the instruments have all been securely tied down and one last sweep of the stage is conducted, Lee climbs into the cab of the truck and drives off. Sasuke wishes he could do the same, but he's responsible for getting Kiba and Naruto home and he'd rather not deal with Kiba's sister. He wouldn't mind leaving Naruto though.

He reenters the bar through the back door and Naruto's no longer out on the dance floor. Instead, he's perched on a bar stool, chatting up a rather shy girl, who looks oddly far too interested in the blonde. Kiba's still out there somewhere with his gaggle of girls.

Sighing, he plops himself at the nearest stool, orders a coffee, despite wanting a bottle of beer, and waits out the night for the two to finish whatever it is they're doing.

-.-

"Sakura was here tonight, just so you know."

The bar is nearly empty by now and Kiba and Naruto want to down a few shots before heading home and Sasuke unwittingly finds himself allowing it. He's still sticking with coffee, thank you very much.

Kiba swivels around on the barstool, eyes shining much too eagerly and a wolfish grin adorning his lips. "What this about a Sakura chick? Is Sasuke finally getting some?"

"Nah. She's just this girl who comes in every day at the Starbucks we work at."

"Dang," Kiba whistles. "That's commitment."

Sasuke decidedly ignores him and instead grounds out, "Why was she here?"

"Just hanging around, probably," Naruto shrugs. "I mean, this is a really popular bar."

"Wait, so is she cute?" Kiba interjects.

Naruto nods and begins to describe her while Sasuke drinks his coffee as though he was downing a shot. He's now more than eighty-five percent certain that Sakura is the person who had written the poem and he doesn't even want to think about why she was here, on tonight of all nights. And now that he thinks about it, that might have been her screaming her love for him.

The bartender sets down another cup of coffee in front of him and manages to pick up the tail end of the conversation.

"You know, that girl has been here every day for the past week. Never seen her before then," he states, casually. "Always comes in at seven-thirty and stays till eleven." He waves a hand at Sasuke. "Always asks about you, too."

"Wow. She must be more into you than I thought."

"I think she's a little _too _into me," Sasuke grumbles. "How'd she even know about the gig, anyways?"

Naruto holds up his hands in a placating manner and shakes his head fervently when Sasuke pins him with an accusatory glare. "Don't look at me like that. I never told her."

The glare turns to Kiba.

"Hey," he squawks defensively, "I didn't even know her till tonight."

It's the bartender's turn to feel the heat of the glare.

"What do you think?"

Having no other person to glare at, he settles on glaring down his cup. He mulls over the new information he's been provided and now he's more than ninety percent sure she's the one who wrote the poem. In the end, h shakes his head and grunts, raising his mug to finish off his drink in one go.

Naruto leans into him, slinging an arm over his shoulders, and croons, "Somebody's in lurve with you~!"

Narrowing his eyes, Sasuke sets his mug down, roughly, unceremoniously shoves Naruto off him and barely bats an eye as he crumples to a heap on the floor. Kiba follows shortly after, having fallen from laughing too hard.

The bartender gives him a look of pity and backs away before he can even be asked to help. Not like Sasuke would have asked. He has his pride as a man to consider.

Sliding off the barstool, he stares down the two still on the floor and says, quite firmly, "I'm leaving."

"What? No, wait!"

-.-

She comes in, as usual, at eight-eleven the next day and orders her usual of peppermint white chocolate raspberry mocha. Her eyes are sparkling and she's looking at him with even more adoration than ever and he likes to believe he knows what's causing it.

She continues to stare at him even after her order is taken and she's waiting for it to be made and he tries to ignore the feeling of her stare that's weighing down on him like a stone. A really heavy, prickly stone.

When she passes by with her drink in hand, he hears her muttering and he catches the phrase "Sasuke the Mocha Boy". He doesn't think anyone other than the poet, Naruto, and himself know about what's written on the napkin and to hear those words coming out of her mouth just confirms whatever suspicions he had left. He's now more than a hundred percent sure she wrote that poem.

And he's more than seventy-five percent sure she's stalking him. How else could she have know about their gig?

He decides he just might take out a restraining order. And maybe move to work at another Starbucks.


End file.
